


Silent Days, Violent Shades (We are Dancing Again)

by aeveee



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10091672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeveee/pseuds/aeveee
Summary: She remembers in the thrums of her skin, in how each colour feels like her, and also not.Or:Five times M’gann is reminded she is not alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [M'gann M'orzz Appreciation Week](https://mgannmorzzappreciation.tumblr.com/post/157754381123/mgannmorzzappreciation-with-mganns-hasty-and/) \- Day 3: M'gann + colour.
> 
> Title from Winter Birds by Aurora. AU in probably everything, especially in that J’onn’s capture by Roulette was not aided  
> by M’gann because that never really made sense to me.
> 
> “Text” indicates speech in English.
> 
>  _“Text”_ indicates speech in Martian.
> 
> Thanks to [scryves](http://scryves.tumblr.com/) for beta duties.

_i._

Roulette saves her until the very last and her satisfaction is blood red painted on thin lips. M’gann feels it on her, a slick uneasiness that slips along her changing form, caresses her as she drops one skin for another.

“You are truly a testament to your species,” Roulette drawls. The chain she holds clinks as she drags it across the cage bars and M’gann can almost taste the [Trombusan](http://arrow.wikia.com/wiki/Trombusans)’s desperation, his eyes wild and searching. “You bring such pretty toys, and you’re willing to share. Such a nice boy.”

“Give that back to me.” The Trombusan’s fear is sour, tastes of oil begging to be lit. Roulette snaps the chain against the cage bar and a single spark flies. M’gann can almost feel the flames.

“Oh, I think not. It’s not a trade if you end with what you began with. Please,” Roulette smiles. It feels like shadows, like teeth scraping, “allow me to share one of my own toys with you.”

Later, she won’t remember to check herself for injuries until Roulette has left the cell, the Trombusan’s bloodied chain curled along the tattoo on her forearm. There is brain matter coating one end of it but Roulette pays no mind. M’gann knows she did not put that there, tries not to flinch away when Roulette comes closer with it. “My beautiful Martian, so effortlessly unsullied.”

M’gann can feel the want in Roulette’s fingertip as it drags along her jawline, comes to rest between her collarbones. Her skin gives beneath Roulette’s touch and Roulette smiles, curls a hand around M’gann’s pulse point.

“So warm and alive. So very dark. Such a lie.”

Roulette leaves after that, and M’gann works to reclaim her skin, to make Roulette’s touch sink through her and into the ground. She only finds the bruises when she presses with her own hands, easily hidden though the pain is not.

The richness of this form, the warmth and depth and beauty. M’gann thinks of red dust littered upon pale hands - red blood dripping, still - and clenches her fists. She almost misses it when a guard opens her cell door, gestures for her to move.

“Get out or get torched, Martian. This friend of yours wants to sniff around so much, he can replace you.”

She feels more than sees him. Even as her body flinches at the threat of flame, the persistent lick of recognition grips her spine, holds her, renders her still. He is unconscious, dark skin wet with blood, and she’s struck again by the fact that he too, chose this skin, to wrap himself in the richness of the earth when he could have chosen otherwise.

(Belatedly, she realizes there is a reason for that, a reason she knows lies within her. She thinks, instead, of how his green represents this Earth, too, in a way she never will.)

It is weeks before she sees him again and when he stands before her, watches her strip away one form for another with raised fists, his awe of her green feels just as broad and undeserved as the first time.

\--

_ii._

“Do you always offer humans alien alcohol or am I a special case?”

M’gann smiles into the glass she’s filling, carefully tapering her pour so the bubbles sit just so. “More tasting, less complaining, Detective.”

“Not the first woman to say that to me, hopefully not the last,” Maggie grins, and M’gann rolls her eyes at the responding over-the-top wink. She laughs a little when it melts into a wince. “Jesus! You couldn’t have warned me about the kick?”

“What did I just say?”

“Yeah, yeah. Except I think all my taste buds burned off so all I have left is to complain.”

“Second sip should be better. I only put a drop in.” There’s genuine worry in her voice now and Maggie waves her off, motions for her to take care of the other waiting customers with a dimpled smile and a raised glass. M’gann only allows herself a moment’s hesitation - humans are frail but hate being treated as such, Maggie Sawyer especially - before turning away.

Maggie stays until M’gann is scheduled to leave, easy company for the lulls in between. She asks about the bar, about whether the ingenuity of human cocktails compares to that of the universe’s - “You are but one planet in an almost never ending expanse of stars. Can you really say anything of your planet is ‘genius’?” - and as the bar patrons die down and M’gann inches towards closing, Maggie asks about the cage.

“You know, I’ve been coming here for months now and I never suspected.”

“It means I did my job well,” M’gann says but Maggie shakes her head, eyes her from atop her glass of cold water.

“It means I didn’t do mine.”

M’gann pauses at that. She thinks of J’onn, of his blood on her brown and green knuckles and the give of his trust, and she matches it to the misplaced warmth of Maggie’s eyes. “I thought you didn’t come here to work, Detective?”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Maggie says.

“You never asked one.”

“Why did you fight for Roulette? You have this job, this bar, you have all of the varied people and beings around you. What would Roulette have to offer you that would be worth you risking yourself for?”

“Atonement,” M’gann says. Maggie blinks, surprised by the truth so early in the game.

“Atonement? For what?”

“Lives lost, a planet left behind. My actions. My people.” M’gann shrugs, works the washcloth beneath a stream of lukewarm water and works to rinse it out before wiping the bartop. “I am - I thought I was the last. Roulette was a means to fix that.”

“Jesus,” Maggie whispers. M’gann stays silent. “Look, I don’t really know your history, or your people’s, but if you were one of the very few to escape, you can’t blame yourself for that. You can’t blame yourself for surviving.”

Her words echo J’onn’s and M’gann watches as Maggie’s gaze drops to her paling knuckles.

“I mean it, M’gann.”

“I know that, now.”

“Okay. Okay, good. And feel free to have me remind you any time you want. You are worth it. You are worth it and you deserve to live. We all deserve to live.”

“Even that one?” M’gann asks, nodding toward the drooping, lurid orange being attempting to navigate a doorframe and trailing bits of broken table. Maggie turns to look and rolls her eyes, reaching to swat at M’gann.

“Even that one.” And then, after a moment’s consideration: “There’s something else that doesn't really make sense to me. Why do you work here, do what you do - and I’ve seen you, asking after customers, checking in on familiar faces, don’t try to play it off like you don’t care - why can you do that and then choose to put yourself in that ring?”

“You could say I’m made of contradictions,” M’gann tries, but Maggie just watches her, eyes warm and patient until M’gann feels a part of herself give. “I may have been looking for something with Roulette, but I also couldn’t just stand by and wait for it. And this bar, it found me more than I found it. You seem to think that I’m trying but I think I’m just… doing what any one person can. It passes the time, until my time comes.”

Maggie scoffs, opens her mouth to say something that is edged with anger and disbelief, but M’gann cuts her off. “Like I said, I am made of contradictions.”

“I’ll say,” Maggie huffs once it becomes clear that M’gann won’t - doesn't want to - listen. “Hey, at least the whole Roulette thing worked out, you’re not the last of your kind anymore.”

M’gann stills at that, looks up to meet Maggie’s quiet, earnest eyes. “Yes,” she tries, “I suppose there is that.”

Maggie’s smile is dimpled and brilliant. “Finish cleaning up and I’ll walk you home.”

“There really is no need.”

“Let me be the nice one for once, alright?”

Maggie’s goodnight is warm, a callused hand against her arm with the faintest swipe of a thumb. M’gann lets it linger on her skin long after Maggie has turned the corner, her smile disappearing along with her into the dimly lit night.

She adds the feeling of it to the growing list of things this lie has let her have.

\--

_iii._

Kara finds her in an out-of-the-way waiting room in the DEO, trapped in the memory of J’onn’s sunken face and the shadows carved so deeply within it. The brush of J’onn’s mind against her own, previously a quiet, distant comfort, has splintered into something indiscernible from white noise and M’gann longs to hush the world, to grasp at what is left and make it whole again.

“M’gann. Everyone’s been looking for you.”

M’gann pushes the heel of a palm against her eyelids, wonders if she looks as bruised as she feels. She can’t help the sigh that rushes out, the feeling of air leaving lungs that don’t truly need it. Everything leaves her, whether she needs it or not. “I’m sorry, Supergirl. What do you need me to do?”

Kara stills, looks at M’gann with eyes that remind her of Earth’s violent seas. How this woman can be so of this planet and yet not, M’gann doesn’t know. The feeling of Kara’s fingers, gentle against the backs of hers, seems so indescribably human that M’gann wonders if Kara understands the conundrum that she is - that they both are. From the twist of Kara’s lips and the crease in her brow, M’gann thinks she doesn’t.

“Oh, M’gann, no. Can I - do you mind if I sit with you?”

M’gann waits for Kara to withdraw her touch before she shifts, opens a space for Kara to drop into. The couch sags beneath Kara’s weight and M’gann feels herself sliding towards her in the dip, like some kind of warm, inescapable gravity.

“You know, you always ask what you can do to help others. Has anyone ever asked you that?”

M’gann stays quiet, listens to the warm hum of Kara’s skin. She’s never imagined Kara to be one for silence but the woman beside her seems content in simply sharing space. Her body is a furnace, a reminder of trapped sunlight beneath pale skin, a gift from dead parents and a star seemingly younger than the soul it feeds.

(M’gann remembers another type of pale skin, almost translucent, almost always covered in blood. She shivers from the cold.)

“I don’t think I’ve ever listened,” M’gann says once long minutes have passed and Kara has taken to threading her fingers together in her lap to keep from running them along her skirt. “I don’t think that even if someone had, I would have listened.”

“You should,” Kara says. Her voice is strong, unwavering. “You should let other people help you.”

“Supergirl - ”

“Just Kara is fine.”

(J’onn had been careful to distinguish between this woman in red and blue and the woman he treats as a second daughter. It had not been his secret to tell. M’gann understands now, why he had tried so hard and the greatness of the trust Kara has gifted her.)

“Kara,” M’gann says. Kara watches her, measured, hopeful. M’gann can’t think of why when Kara is so strong and good and brilliant in her power and M’gann would have given anything to have always been dark, wrapped in the richness of this Earth. “I am not someone who deserves to be helped.”

“Everyone deserves to be helped,” Kara says.

“Not everyone is good, Kara. Not everyone is like you.”

She means that her crest brings recognition and hope. She means that even in Kara’s mistakes there is forgiveness, there are survivors. Kara hears the words but seems to have understood something outside of them and M’gann watches as she straightens, enviable certainty falling away to leave a woman in a cape, with years of solitude and a waning strength to fix it.

“People aren’t always as good as they seem, especially me. That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve good things. Do you think it makes me less deserving?”

“Of course not,” M’gann says. Kara smiles sadly.

“Then why can’t you say that for yourself? J’onn, he - he thinks of you as family. I trust him. I trust you. You may have made some mistakes, done some things that you aren’t proud of, but who can say that they have truly lived life in Rao’s light without having strayed from the path at least once? You are still good, M’gann. You are here, you are still good.”

There is so much roiling beneath M’gann’s skin that she can’t find the words for, that she cannot say, cannot show. In the end, she settles for grasping Kara’s hand in her own and squeezing just once in time with the pain in her chest. Kara tries to squeeze back, wiggles her fingers until M’gann lets her twist her hand around to catch dark fingers with her own. The motion makes M’gann wonder what her years on Earth would have been like if she had learned to love this freely, if she had met this woman sooner.

“Thank you, Kara.”

“Of course,” Kara says. Her expression turns sly, makes M’gann laugh. “So if I said I want to help you, would you listen to me now?”

M’gann thinks of J’onn, of Alex Danvers’ desperate pleas and the inevitability of her blood in him. Kara looks at her with such unwavering faith that she can’t help but believe, just for a moment, in all of the greatness that Kara seems to see in her despite the looming reminder that she is not. It’s enough to make her give in.

“Only if you will also let me help you,” M’gann says, finally. Kara beams at that.

“Deal!”

M’gann laughs. “Deal.”

\--

_iv._

“I cannot allow you to do this, M’gann.”

“You can’t stop me, J’onn.”

J’onn’s expression is thunderous, centuries of pain and suffering coalescing upon strong features. His hand reaches momentarily out for hers and she feels his worry, sees his helplessness in every line of his being. She tries her best to keep her own fear at bay.

_“You must understand that I cannot leave our planet as it is, not when I know now that I have the strength. Not when I know I can make a difference.”_

_“You already have, M’gann!”_ J’onn tries. His hand shakes as he reaches up to touch his temple, then his chest. _“You have made all the difference on this world, for me, for mine. Why can you not see that that is enough? You do not have to save everyone, M’gann.”_

 _“But someone has to try,”_ M’gann says. J’onn fairly shakes with frustration, with an anger that boils, hot and desperate.

_“Then that someone does not have to be you.”_

He shifts, grows until he is green and proud, looming. At the pain in M’gann’s eyes, J’onn shifts back, skin darkening until it is once again the comforting richness of earth. M’gann closes her eyes and only knows that J’onn has cupped her face in his hands from the gentle warmth of his palms on her cheeks. His thumbs stroke at her temples.

_“This is not a solution, M’gann. Do not do this. Or at least, do not do this alone.”_

_“They will kill you on sight, J’onn.”_

_“And they will hold their ire for you? I cannot allow you to follow this deluded dream you have of saving our dead planet. Things are not so simple. You are not indestructible.”_

M’gann gives a small laugh at that, opens her eyes and laughs some more at J’onn’s puzzled expression. Her chest feels full as she says, “Kara is near indestructible and you worry about her, every day. Don’t think that that excuse will work on me, J’onn J’onzz.”

She feels more than sees J’onn’s love for his youngest, in the way that he softens at the mention of her, in the flood of memories and warmth across their connection. She lets herself sink into it, lets herself feel what J’onn freely offers - how she envies him for having someone like Kara in his life, how she thanks whatever deity she can that he’s found this little family when he has lost so much - and it lasts until J’onn pulls free and stands at arm's length.

“Kara would at least be in much less danger than you if put in the same situation. You’re right in that it would be dangerous for me to go with you, but it is equally as dangerous for you to go by yourself.”

“Nothing can be achieved without a little risk.”

“But there is sensible risk. What you are proposing is senseless.”

“What would you have me do, J’onn? This is an opportunity that may never present itself again, I can’t just let it go.”

 _“Would that be so bad?”_ J’onn says. His voice cracks a little as he asks, _“Would their leaving and never coming back be so bad? Would it not mean that we are safe, that we can live in peace?”_

M’gann can see it in the way that J’onn holds himself that these are words he would never say until last resort, that each one is an admission he feels pain in making. _“It’s not that simple.”_

_“You do not owe my people your life. You do not need to prove yourself, to be so selfless. You have given more than enough and I do not - my people would not want this blood.”_

_“They are dead, J’onn,”_ M’gann says as gently as she can. J’onn still flinches, still looks as though he feels the weight of every death on his shoulders. _“I owe them as much as I can possibly give.”_

_“And what of me?”_

M’gann blinks. _“What do you mean? You owe your people nothing. You were not the one to kill them, to let them die.”_

_“I mean, what of your debt to me?”_

M’gann stills, watches as J’onn looks at her - so careful, so sad - before looking away, something akin to shame clouding his features. _“What?”_

_“I am the last of my kind, the last of the people you claim you are single-handedly responsible for killing. Does your repentance not start with me?”_

M’gann feels something sour rising, hot and acrid in her throat, and for a moment she thinks she’s going to be sick. She only realizes it’s J’onn’s disgust for himself that’s rebounding within her when J’onn reaches for her, the contact making the feeling worsen.

_“Do not make me ask this of you, M’gann.”_

_“Then don’t ask,”_ M’gann tries, but J’onn near growls and she squeezes his hands in hers. _“J’onn, don’t do this. Do not pretend to be selfish for my sake.”_

 _“I am not pretending!”_ J’onn snaps, _“I am not - I want you to stay for your safety, yes, but also because I have only just found you, I have only just truly met you and I still do not know enough, still have not had enough time - ”_

The memories flood her, fast and desperate: their first meeting in the bar, J’onn’s kind face dimly lit and curious; M’gann’s green form standing over J’onn before shifting back into her human skin; J’onn’s rage at her betrayal and his startled, terrified acceptance as he holds her in her mind, tries to shield her from the screams of his dying people.

The final image M’gann sees isn’t a memory - she knows this because she keenly knows it never happened. She is in the bar, laughing as Kara wraps her in a hug. Alex is tugging a reluctant J’onn along until they stop in front of her, Alex smug, J’onn shy.

“Finally decided to show?” the apparition of M’gann asks. This version of J’onn is quick to emote, a pleased smile gracing his lips, and M’gann marvels at how soft it makes him look.

“How could I not, to celebrate the day you arrived on Earth.”

“Earth birthday!” Kara crows almost immediately, and J’onn looks over at her as though he could burst, puts all of the excess emotion into their link until M’gann feels overfull too.

 _“If you leave,”_ J’onn says, pulling M’gann back - there are tears in his eyes, real and heavy and undeniable in a way his projection wasn’t, _“if you leave, this will never happen. I will never be able to be with you, never have you in my family, ever again.”_

M’gann fights back a sob. _“J’onn.”_

_“If this is what it takes, then I will ask, and I will ask until you listen. Please let me help you. Please stay. Please - for me.”_

She hears the echo of Kara’s request - “You should let people help you,” - sees the way J’onn is reliving his losses again, already adding her to the list, and finally, finally, she breaks.

J’onn is warm against her, arms steady but desperately tight. His voice trembles as he whispers, _“Thank you, thank you, thank you,”_ into her hair over and over again and she grasps at his broad back, buries her tears within him.

If Kara notices their sadness once they finally make it back to the DEO to ask her of something that is almost unfair - Kara, ever good, ever giving Kara, doesn’t hesitate at all - M’gann is thankful she doesn’t show it.

\--

_v._

“So what, you busters are just going to hop on some intergalactic space bus and stop off at Mars, subdue some rampant bloodthirsty aliens - no offense, M’gann - and hop on back?”

“First of all,” Kara says primly, fingers at her glasses, “The bus can’t be intergalactic if we’re only travelling one planet over.”

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Maggie says. There’s exasperation and fondness in equal measure in her eyeroll. “Is that the only part that’s wrong with what’s happening?”

“Yes!” When Maggie tries to swat at her, Kara adds, “Don’t do that, you might hurt yourself.”

“Oh, just you wait, Little Danvers, just you wait.”

“Settle down,” M’gann calls out. She’s behind the bar again, feels as though she’s returned to a home she never really knew had. She slides a beer over to Maggie, withholds the club soda for only a second before giving in with a laugh at Kara’s grabby hands. Their faces on the other side of the bar are familiar, comfortable. M’gann’s chest feels overfull. “It’s a lot less crazy than it sounds, Maggie, I assure you. And no offense taken.”

“Yeah. Space travel isn’t that hard when you’ve got friends that can travel across _dimensions_. We just need to, you know,” Kara makes vague waving gestures, “find the right person to help us.”

“Or alien,” Maggie says.

“Or alien,” Kara agrees. “But in all seriousness, it shouldn’t be too difficult. I mean, given enough time Winn, Alex, Lena, and I could probably wrangle together a ship of some sort. Since we’re on kind of a strict timeline, though, we’ll need to use the other advantages that we have.”

“Namely that I am still a wanted fugitive,” M’gann supplies.

“Yes, that,” Kara says, wincing only slightly. Maggie laughs at Kara’s discomfort. “It’s not the most elegant of solutions, but it will get us on-planet.”

“And what about getting back onto this planet?” Maggie asks.

“That’s when we steal a spaceship!” Kara cries with barely held excitement, and M’gann can’t help the burst of warmth beneath her breastbone, buoyed by Maggie’s answering laugh. She watches her friends, drinks in this beautiful moment and wraps it with a bit of her own happiness before sending it to J’onn. His answer comes in the form of a memory of Kara in the DEO, two donuts stuffed into a grinning mouth and Alex yelling in the background.

 _“That woman is fearless in the worst of ways,”_ J’onn thinks, and watching as Kara chugs Maggie’s beer, leaning forward to burp in her face, M’gann is inclined to agree.

Hours later finds M’gann walking home, Kara and Maggie on either side of her. Both of them are loud, happy-drunk: Kara is almost overly warm at her side, Maggie a comforting weight draped against her.

“I’ve never actually seen your place before,” Kara says suddenly, pouting a little at the realization before leaning out to ask, “Maggie, have you seen M’gann’s place before?”

“Only from the outside.”

“That makes me feel better,” Kara grins and she squeals as Maggie reaches over to pinch her. M’gann raises an eyebrow at the sound, raising the other one when Kara only offers a shrug once Maggie isn’t looking. M’gann thinks of normalcy, of habits formed over time and a life so rarely revealed that it’s easy to forget. She remembers hers in the thrums of her skin, in how each colour feels like her, and also not. Kara’s returns the squeeze of her hand with ease.

They’re almost at M’gann’s apartment complex when Kara tugs them to a stop. The lights on this stretch of street are off - M’gann doesn’t live in a particularly run down neighbourhood but sometimes the street lights get neglected - and Kara’s face is soft, wistful.

“Do you ever just look up and, I don’t know… remember what it was like?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Maggie drawls once the silence has stretched on for too long. Her tone is flippant but her eyes are careful and just for a second, the weight of her concern sits heavy and wrong. The moment passes when Maggie blinks and quietly adds, “But I would love to hear about it if you guys would be willing to share that with me.”

“Of course,” M’gann says, even as Kara bites her lip, tense. She’s undoubtedly reliving the loss of her people, her planet lightyears too far to be seen in this starlight but still so real in Kara’s mind. M’gann watches as Kara breathes, finally comes back to herself. Her eyes are sad but - as always - endlessly kind.

“We’ll fix this,” Kara says.

“There may not be a way to,” M’gann tries.

“Then you come home, and you live your life here,” Maggie answers, firm as if that’s that, as if that’s the answer to everything.

And when she thinks about it, thinks of J’onn, of Alex and Winn and James, of these two beautiful women leaning against her, M’gann realizes that maybe it is that simple, that it’s the family she comes home to that matters the most.

“Okay,” M’gann says, and she thanks the green, the brown, the white of her that has led her to this family, this beautiful, great gift that she has been given.


End file.
